He pulled Jake’s grungy T-shirt over his head, leaving his arms raised. “Don’t move.”
The command was whispered, and Tom only half expected Jake to obey—Cass never did, at least not on the first try—but Jake didn’t stir as Tom roamed down his body, exploring the lean curves of sinuous muscle.
Tom traced every inch of Jake’s torso with his tongue and lips. Grazed his smooth inked skin with his teeth. Tom had spent too long resisting the call of his slender bones, and now he couldn’t touch him enough.
Jake finally quivered beneath him, his soft moan barely audible. Tom smiled into Jake’s flat abdomen, blowing warm air over his protruding hip, then he unbuttoned his own shirt, stripped Jake of his jeans, and dug around for supplies under the sofa. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked on the living room floor, and Cass had a thing for being bent over the arm of the couch.
He found what he was looking for and threw it down beside Jake.
Jake met his gaze and licked his lips. “Take your jeans off.”
Tom shed his remaining clothes. For a moment, he felt cold. He didn’t spend enough time in the flat to bother with the central heating timer, and the slow, ancient pipes combined with the late November air was enough to make him shiver.
Or perhaps it was something else.
Jake opened his legs, inviting Tom closer. Tom crawled over him and kissed him again, losing himself in Jake’s gentle, demanding touch. He put his hand on Jake’s chest and gauged his heartbeat, feeling it quicken with every stroke of his tongue. In that moment, Tom was certain there was room in his life with Cass for this precious man. There had to be.
He poured some lube onto his hand and warmed it between his palms before he took hold of Jake’s cock. He pumped him slow and sure, like the beat of a drum, watching the sensation travel through Jake until he was pushing up into Tom’s hand, widening his legs. Tom squeezed Jake’s balls and moved lower, using more lube to work Jake open.
Jake let out a frustrated groan. “Just fuck me, will you? I can take it. I need it.”
Tom curled his fingers in Jake one more time before he withdrew and reached for a condom. He rolled one on with shaking hands. He’d been careful with Jake up until now, but he knew all bets were off the moment he slid inside him. He remembered his smooth, tight heat too well, remembered the rush, and he ached for it.
Jake raised his legs and brought his knees to his chest. He trembled.
Tom leaned over him, their cocks sliding together. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Jake smiled. “I know.”
Trust. It bloomed between them for the first time. The sensation shocked him. Jake had been in his life for months, fucking the first night they’d met, and working side by side ever since. Had it really taken Jake this long to realise Tom wasn’t going to fuck him over?
Jake rocked his hips up to Tom’s cock. “Stop bloody thinking.”
Tom absorbed the command, though it didn’t escape his notice that he’d once again lost control of an encounter with Jake. He lined his dick up with Jake’s body and pushed inside, inch by inch, watching Jake swallow him up.
Jake threw his head back and clutched Tom’s shoulders. “I forgot how big you are.”
“Oh, I’m going to make you remember.” Tom rolled his hips a fraction. “You ready?”
Jake dug his nails into Tom’s skin and met his gaze. “Hell yeah.”
The eye contact changed everything. In a split second, Tom became a man possessed by the feel of Jake wrapped around him.
He thrust hard into Jake, savouring every breath and sound, until Tom was scrambling for purchase on the rug. The rough surface dug into his knees, but the pain was pleasurable and added to the fast-growing heat coiling deep in his belly.
Jake grasped his cock, his hand sliding easily with the lube Tom had left there.
The sight of him jacking off, neck arched, head thrown back, made Tom groan and pound him harder. “You look so hot like that.”
“You’ve said that before. Get some new lines, old man.” Jake’s eyes were wide, but the dark glint in them told Tom he knew exactly what effect he was having.
Like that, is it? Tom canted his hips, changing the angle.
Jake faltered and grabbed Tom’s wrist. “Oh God.”
Tom smirked, but his smugness was brief. His muscles were locking up, and he knew he was going to come soon. He gritted his teeth and gripped Jake’s leg. His balls tightened, Jake clenched around him, and Tom let go with a gravelly groan.
Heat pulsed between them as Tom came. Jake let out a strangled cry and shot over his stomach. He thrashed his head from side to side as his body jerked. Awe warred with alarm in Tom. He’d noticed that the first time, the way Jake’s release hit him like a train. Without the blissed-out stare, he’d have looked in agony.
Tom waited for Jake to calm, then reached for an errant piece of clothing to wipe him down. Jake watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, silent and spent, chest heaving with harsh breaths. Tom kissed his chest, withdrew carefully, and padded to the kitchen to chuck the condom. Jake was still sprawled on the floor when he came back. Tom considered him. He was long limbed, but made up of sinew and bone. I want to carry him to my bed.
As though he’d heard the thought, Jake held out his hand and let Tom haul him to his feet. They shuffled into the bedroom and crawled into bed. Tom lay on his back with Jake draped over him. The darkness enveloped them, and Tom let it take him until Jake moved. Tom felt him rise up on his elbows and opened his eyes to a soft kiss.
“Do you feel better now?” Jake asked.
“Better?”
“Yeah. You didn’t seem yourself earlier.”
Tom pushed Jake’s hair behind his ears. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a busy few weeks.”
Jake seemed satisfied with Tom’s answer. He curled himself around Tom and put his cheek on his chest. “Cass says you get like that when you work too hard.”
Tom blinked, unsure if he’d heard right. “Cass?”
“Yeah. He’s been texting me. We’ve talked every day for a while now. I want to meet him again.”
Tom pushed his way through the early morning bustle of yet another London station. Sometimes it felt like his life was ruled by the bright lines of the Tube map and the packed trains, but today he paid his usual frustration no heed. Today, he was a man on a mission, and it would take more than a crowd of sour-faced commuters to slow him down.
He made it above ground and braved a zebra crossing. He dodged a slow-moving bus and headed west. In the distance, he saw the signage for Pippa’s. It was early, barely 8 a.m., but Thursday was a busy day in the restaurant trade—the day the weekend started early—and Cass would already be in the kitchen.
It began to rain, one of those intense showers that soaked through even the thickest pair of jeans. Tom felt it seep into his bones as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the message from Jake.
I’m gonna be offended if you keep leaving me in bed. Stay next time. Sleep with me.
Next time. Fuck. Tom shook himself. Despite Jake’s best efforts, he was still bone-tired, agitated too, and unable to think beyond the next ten minutes. Last night, he’d watched Jake sleep for a while before he’d caught a few hours himself, but he’d crept away from the bed when dawn came, scribbled a note, and caught the underground across the city to Shepherd’s Bush. Cass had been on his mind from the moment Jake had uttered his name in that lazy, postcoital moment, and there was only one way to get to the bottom of that.
Tom let himself in the front door of the restaurant. A few staff members smiled and waved. Some said hello. Tom nodded at them and continued on his way. He strode through the dining area and pushed open the kitchen door, gaze roving until he found Cass behind the main pass, knife in hand, prepping meat.
Cass looked up at just the right moment and saw Tom in the doorway. His expression remained unchanged, but he set his knife down, like he knew what was coming next.
&
nbsp; Tom pointed at the ceiling. “I need a minute.”
On any other day, he’d expect Cass not to follow him, but something in Tom’s tone obviously compelled him to do as he was told for once. Tom led the way to the accommodation above the restaurant and kicked open the door. Cass followed him into the flat and locked it behind him.
“Something wrong?”
Tom turned to face him and folded his arms to stop himself reaching out. “I fucked Jake last night.”
Cass raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were talking to him?”
“Oh.” Comprehension flickered over Cass’s features. “I wondered if he’d mention it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was going to.”
“Uh-huh.” Tom glared at Cass and took in his troubled gaze. “I don’t understand.” He gestured between them. “This works because we’re honest. We don’t hide things from each other. Why did you keep this from me?”
“I didn’t keep it from you, I just . . . Fuck.” Cass took his bandana off and ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think he’d respond to me, and when he did, I was here and you were somewhere else. I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone.”
“Why not? Don’t you think a phone call is better than nothing?”
“Nothing is all I fucking know. I’ve hardly seen you for weeks.”
“And whose fault is that? No one forces you to chain yourself to the bloody kitchen.”
Cass’s gaze darkened as his temper began to burn, but when he spoke, there was no fire in his tone, only a tired bewilderment Tom had never heard in him before. “It’s not a crime to do an honest day’s work. You taught me that. What exactly are you angry about?”
Tom remained silent, not all together sure of his answer. Was he angry? Or just bloody confused? Shutting people—shutting Tom out—was Cass all over, but clandestine messages to Jake didn’t fit his MO. Tom sighed and scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Why couldn’t Cass just fucking talk to him?
“Look.” Cass stepped closer, but kept his hands to himself. “I wanted to get to know him better. You can’t give him up, so I figured we should at least be friends.”
Tom’s stomach clenched. “I would give him up, if you asked me to. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I’d never ask you to do that.” Cass raised his voice as his temper boiled over. “I like him. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
“You like him? How?”
“What do you mean, how? How do you think?”
Cass balled his hands into fists and set his jaw. Tom took a deep breath. This was the Cass he saw in his dreams, lost and wild, searching for something he’d never find. “Just tell me, Cass. Please?”
The quiet plea reached Cass like nothing else could, and the fire in his gaze faded. “I talk to him every day. We have a lot in common, mainly you, but other things as well. It’s a shame you met him first.”
Cass grinned, dark and wry, but Tom couldn’t find his sense of humour. “Why?”
“Why what?”
Tom backed Cass slowly into the door and pressed their foreheads together, craving the comfort of a physical connection. His frustration had eased, and now he just felt tired again, too tired, even, to care much that Cass had deflected his question. “Why is this so complicated?”
“Because you bagged a blinder. You shouldn’t seduce blokes you actually like.”
“Don’t take the piss out of me.” Tom pushed himself into Cass and felt every curve and angle of his body in just the right places. “I’ve missed you this week, but I’ll still make you regret it.”
“Yeah?” Cass licked his lips, a challenge if there ever was one. “Then stop yelling at me and kiss me like you fucking miss me.”
Tom kissed him once, hard, then spun him around and wrestled him against the door face-first. Cass fought him briefly, jostling the bookcase by the door. Tom caught the bowl Cass kept his keys in with his elbow. It fell to the floor and shattered, but Tom barely noticed. Right now, he only had room for Cass.
Tom won the struggle. He shoved Cass into position and tugged his chef trousers down. Cass was heavier than Jake, with more meat on his bones, but in moments like these, Tom dwarfed him. “Is this what you want? Like this? Against the door?”
Cass pushed back, grinding himself on Tom’s cock. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Tom chuckled. They both knew how wrong that statement was. “Stay here.”
Tom stepped away and opened the bathroom door, found what he needed, and returned to Cass, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“You’ll have to be quiet.” Tom lubed his fingers and slid them easily into Cass, stretching him out as he unbuckled his jeans. He rolled a condom on and replaced his fingers with his cock, slow but steady, and all the way, stopping only when he could go no further. “Think you can manage that?”
Cass squirmed, his body clenching and flexing around Tom. He lolled his head back. “Shit, yeah—”
Tom swallowed Cass’s groan with a kiss. They’d never fucked up here. Cass was apt to get loud, and with a restaurant full of staff and guests below them, it had never felt right. But for once Tom didn’t care about right. Despite a scalding hot shower, he felt sure he could still smell Jake on his skin, but he wanted Cass like he’d never wanted him before. Cass, Cass, Cass; his best friend, lover . . . soul mate.
He drove into Cass, waiting a brief, heart-stopping moment before he did it again, and again, setting a furious rhythm that made his toes curl. Cass braced himself on the door and took it all, arching his back and grinding against Tom, like he wanted, needed, more.
Neither of them lasted long. Cass came with a strangled grunt, and Tom followed seconds later, muffling his groan with a bruising bite to Cass’s neck.
“Arsehole.” Cass hung his head, panting. “That better be under my collar.”
“It is.” Tom withdrew. Cass swayed. Tom held him tight and kissed his neck, soothing the mark left by his teeth. “You make me crazy, you know that?”
“Mmm.” Cass sounded spacey. “I need to sit down.”
Tom double-checked the door was locked, then peeled Cass’s hands from the wood, pulled his trousers up, and turned him towards the living room. “Sofa. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Tom ditched the condom in the bathroom bin and washed his hands. There was broken crockery all over the place and jizz splattered on the door, but it could wait. It could all wait. He half lifted Cass from the couch and slipped in beneath him. Cass lay boneless on top of him. Tom slid his hands under his chef jacket and T-shirt and rubbed his back. “Better?”
Cass hummed. “Yeah. That was awesome.”
Awesome. Yeah, fucking Cass was always awesome, but as Tom stared up at the ceiling of the flat he rarely visited, the reality of why he was there came rushing back. “We still need to sort out this craziness with Jake. It’s driving me nuts.”
Cass sighed and kept his face hidden in the crook of Tom’s neck. He seemed relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. “What have you got to moan about? You’re the one getting the best of both worlds.”
“That’s how you see it?” Tom nudged Cass until he met his gaze. “I don’t want both worlds, Cass. I want one, one where everyone’s happy.”
Cass shook his head. “That’s your problem. You want to keep everyone happy, and you freak out when you can’t.” Cass shifted so he was wedged between Tom and the back of the sofa. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I am happy.”
I wish. Tom wasn’t fooled. The mood swings, the sleepless nights, the endless fucking silence saw to that. Cass seemed content enough most of the time, but happy? Those moments were all too rare. “Don’t bullshit me. This thing with Jake is different, and it’s going to affect—it is affecting—everything. Neither of us has ever had a . . . bond with someone else before.”
“I had Dean for a while. I was fucking him for months before he moved back down s
outh.”
“Dean was your fuck buddy. There was nothing else there, and you didn’t miss him when he was gone.”
“Do you miss Jake now?”
Yes. “That’s not what I meant.” Cass’s expression was unreadable. Tom nudged him. “Jake’s special, I know that, but I don’t get why you want this to work out so much. Makes me think you might be using him to distract me.”
“Distract you?”
“Yeah, to stop me bugging you to come home, when it’s clearly the last place you want to be.”
“What the fuck?” Cass sat up, and Tom’s postcoital haze evaporated. “Why would you think that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Tom fought to keep his tone even. “You’d rather be here alone than come home to me. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re the one who told me not to bother schlepping to Hampstead.”
“That’s because I don’t want to be in bloody Hampstead either!”
Cass jerked away and scrambled off the sofa. “Don’t give me that shit. The flat was your idea.”
“So? What did you expect me to do? Kick around the house by myself while you roamed the streets, fighting the world and God knows what? Wait for the next call from the police station?”
It was a low blow. Cass had been out of trouble for years, but the damage was done, the words out before he could stop them.
Hurt coloured Cass’s gaze before anger took its place. “How long are you going to punish me for that?”
Tom closed his eyes and counted to ten, then he opened them and tried to find something, anything, in Cass’s baleful gaze to hold on to. “I’m not punishing you, Cass. I just don’t want to be alone, and neither do you, so why are we both so lonely?”
Cass had no answer. Tom held out his hand. Cass drifted back to the sofa and took it. He lay back down and wrapped himself around Tom, but the mutinous silence remained. For a while, Tom imagined a gaping rift, a hole he couldn’t fill, then Cass stretched up and kissed him, lightly at first, but then deeper, bruising himself on Tom’s lips.
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